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Page 55
assurance that he was only tired; in two days or three he would be well and strong.
Meanwhile, life seemed to come into focus. There was a reason to drive the children out to play; if she did not, they would wake Ian. There was a reason to talk to the cooks about meals, to be sure the laundresses were attending properly to the linens and Ian's soiled clothing. Alinor picked through his baggage, discarding things that were damaged and soiled beyond repair by neglect while on the field. Some could be replaced from Simon's clothingshirts and chausses and the rough, homespun tunics worn under mail. The outer garments, however Life blurred a little again as Alinor folded away the gray gowns and surcoats. Simon had always worn gray. No one would ever wear those garments again. It was not sentiment. Merely, no shade would fit Ian worse. His coloring was designed for the jewel tintsruby, emerald, sapphire would make his dark beauty glow.
Chests long unused were sought for and turned out. Alinor cut the wine-red velvet, the soft, thick, greenwoolen cloth. Her maids were wakened at first dawn and harried through the day. With half an ear she noted, as she bent over her embroidery, that the maids were chattering and singing and laughing again. The sounds were strange to her; she had not realized how long it had been since there were other than hushed whispers in the women's quarters.
On the fourth day Ian woke of himself at dawn. A boy was sent running, and Alinor came sleepily down in a hastily donned bedrobe to clean and bandage Ian's back.
"Where do you go?" she asked as she worked over him.
The question gave him pleasure and reassurance. It was no polite inquiry of a departing guest but a demand that bespoke the right to such information.
"Where I am needed first. When I came, I had the

 
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